It's been awhile. I've kept a journal for most of my life and it seems like every other entry begins that way: It's been a long time, I should catch up.
I got my own production company going. It's called Runaway Productions. I've got the professional equipment and the business license and even some cards. So now it's full speed ahead. Except that it's not. A friend of mine who's known as a cameraman got the same camera after I did and he's getting jobs all over the place. I've yet to bill for one project. I handed one of my cards to M ar|< Eat*n, the former pro baseke+ball player, and he laughed at them. "Did you make these yourself?" he asked. Then he pointed to the line at the bottom that says, "over 17 years broadcast television experience," and sneered, "Oh, look at that, 17 years experience." I wasn't sure what he was getting at. I wanted to tell the 7-foot-four-inch jerk to get down on his knees so I could kick his ass. But I didn't want to cause a scene by hurting him right there in the studio.
On the home front, Princess Rufflebutt is getting so grown up. She's about 18 months old now. The other day she saw one of her brothers lift up the toilet seat and pee. The next thing we knew, she was standing with her diaper off next to the toilet, the rim up to her neck, trying to take a leak too.
In other toilet-related news, my wife told me a while ago that she found my four-year-old bathing right there in the bowl. He's very small for his age--not even in the running percentile-wise--and I guess it was a good fit.
Have a good one.